


How Wonderful Life Is

by coloursflyaway



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Just to say this too: there isn't much of the concert and a lot more of the kissing in this, M/M, Post-Kingsman: The Golden Circle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 15:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12171672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: When Harry comes to see him, Eggsy might expect a lot of things, but not an invitation to an Elton John concert.





	How Wonderful Life Is

There is a knock on the door, quiet and polite; Eggsy only hears it because he’s passing through the hallway, pure, dumb luck, which makes him walk up to the door and open it.  
It’s cold outside, winter apparently has come early, but Eggsy isn’t certain if the temperature really is to blame for the flush on Harry’s cheeks, the tip of his nose. Two years ago, he wouldn’t have noticed, but after his training, it’s obvious that the older man is nervous: his hands are crossing and uncrossing in front of his body, his head tilted, his eye flitting between Eggsy’s face and the door frame, like Harry doesn’t quite know if he wants to see him yet. If he wasn’t sure if he wanted Eggsy to even open the door.

“Good evening, Eggsy”, Harry finally greets him, gives him a little smile. It’s an almost timid thing, just barely there and yet enough to make the room seem brighter.  
“Evenin’. Didn’t expect you, is something wrong?”, Eggsy asks, although he is already rather certain that this is not work related; it’s something else, maybe something to do with that underlying hint of electricity that hasn’t disappeared between them ever since they shared martinis in the plane. Which has only gotten stronger, harder to ignore after Eggsy called off the wedding with Tilde, tinting each moment they spend together rose gold and silver.  
He can feel it even now, the air around them tense, hopeful and yet scared, making Eggsy’s skin tingle, his mouth go dry.  
And really, Harry shakes his head, the smile not leaving his face, his fingers untangling before one of his hands disappears in a pocket, reappearing with long, elegant fingers holding onto two slips of paper.

“Nothing is wrong, nothing at all. I just – if you remember, we had this quick run-in with Elton John, and well… it appears he is a man of his word, because yesterday I had two tickets plus backstage passes in my mail. And I wondered if you might want to accompany me to the concert.” Harry is still smiling, but the curve of his lips a little wider, and it’s times like this that remind Eggsy of what has happened. Because Harry is back to normal, at least most of the time; in between, there are moments like this, in which Harry seems unsure, hesitant, distracted.  
Often, it’s when the butterflies come, clouding his vision and making it hard to focus, but then there are times when it’s something else, something new, something important that makes Harry pause, occasionally stutter, stumble over his words. And Eggsy could be wrong, even if he’d give ten years of his life not to be, but to him these moments feel a little bit like a fifty-six year old man trying, maybe for the first time, to woo someone he is genuinely in love with.

“Tonight?”, Eggsy asks, already considering which jacket to wear to a concert like this, if a normal t-shirt would be considered too casual.  
“Yes. I know, it’s quite short-notice, I most likely should have called you ahead, so if you already have plans – “  
It’s strangely cute, watching Harry Hart, gentleman spy extraordinaire, spluttering like this, somewhere between already disappointed and still hopeful, but Eggsy takes a step forward anyway, puts a hand on Harry’s arm. And there it is again, sparks flying, Eggsy’s palm tingling, his lips begging for a kiss, and if only for a single one.  
“I’d love to”, he tells the other, and watches the sun rise in Harry’s remaining eye, a new spring wash all resignation from his face. “Let me just get my coat, okay?”

 

Harry has thought of everything, he really has – there is a Kingsman cab waiting for them in front of Eggsy’s house, _Tiny Dancer_ softly playing in the background, two martinis waiting for them, a perfectly coiled strip of lemon peel resting against the delicate glass.  
It makes Eggsy’s heart beat a little bit faster, harder than it has any right to, and when he looks over at Harry, he knows his smile is too bright, too loving.

“Well, you made an effort, didn’t you?”, he comments, settling back into the cushions, the soft leather. Even after almost two years, this is a luxury Eggsy appreciates every single time. “Almost could tricked me into thinking this is a date.”  
The words are out of his mouth before Eggsy had the chance to think twice about them; once he has had time to do so, he still doesn’t regret them. Months and months have passed, and they are still dancing, still half pretending they do not notice that they both have changed and that the relationship between them has, too. Maybe it’s just time for one of them to stop, to adjust the rhythm and start anew. Different again, but possibly, probably worth the interruption.    
It is a risk, a single glance at Harry’s face is enough to see that. His eye is wide, his lips parted; maybe he wasn’t ready yet.

But then Harry takes a breath, and for a moment, he looks more like the lepidopterist he would have become without Kingsman, without the army. More vulnerable, softer, with a heart that hasn’t quite learnt how to keep itself from breaking yet.  
“It could be one… if you wanted it to be”, he says, and Eggsy’s heart threatens to break through his chest wall with every too strong, too desperate beat. In every life, there are a few moments of absolute clarity, when for a few seconds, the silence drowns out the noise, and you can feel rather than think, and things seem so sharp, so crisp and clear. And with Harry looking at him, the same plea Eggsy’s heart has been beating out in Morse code for longer than Eggsy will ever admit, written across his beautiful face with big, bold strokes, impossible to miss, Eggsy can _see_.  
Because this is right, not just for now, but for a long time to come, because they are right, for each other, for this, for the moment.

He should answer, because that is what Harry deserves, words to tell him what Eggsy knows now, but there are none left to say, drowned out by the hum of blood in his ears, the pleasant pain of every heartbeat and the desperate yearning of every inch of skin to be kissed, touched, loved.  
“I – “, he tries, at least for a moment, before abandoning speech as a manner of communication just not fit to say what he means; he uses something else instead. Leans forward and kisses Harry, who is still looking at him half afraid.

Their lips collide a little too forcefully, because Eggsy is all feeling and no thought, cannot stop himself now that he can be certain his feelings are returned. There is an initial burst of pain, but it doesn’t matter for half a second, not when Harry’s lips are soft and warm, parted to sigh, or maybe speak.  
Eggsy kisses all his love onto them, puts the loneliness of the year he had thought Harry lost into the touch of his hands when he grabs onto the lapels of Harry’s coat, the happiness of having him back into the slide of his lips, the pure bliss of this moment into the broken gasp that escapes him in between kisses.  
And it takes what feels like a small eternity until Harry responds, but he does, slowly, surely, like Eggsy’s touch has washed away what doubt was left inside of him. Reaching up to cup Eggsy’s cheek with a large hand, the other one moving to rest against his waist, holding onto Eggsy like he won’t let him go again.

Back in Harry’s padded cell, Eggsy had melted against the other’s chest once he had him back, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent the tears forming in his eyes from spilling, and he melts now too, pours all of himself into this one single kiss and thinks he can feel Harry do the same.

Still, it’s Harry who breaks the kiss, pulls back just slightly, even while he keeps his hands, keeps Eggsy right where he is, who takes his chance and steals another short kiss, smiling although he knows that Harry won’t be able to see.  
“I didn’t –“, Harry starts, then stops, and starts again, “I wouldn’t have thought – not you, not really, but _God_ , Eggsy…”  
“I’m here”, Eggsy mutters, strokes his fingertips across Harry’s jaw, down his throat. “And I want this. Want you.”  
As if to make his point, he pushes closer still, brushes another kiss against Harry’s lips, featherlight, more a touch than anything else. It’s enough to make the other’s grip tighten, the pressure finally making Eggsy realise that he will have this every day now, Harry close to him, like it was supposed to be.

It’s difficult to pull back, but maybe it’s necessary; they have all the time they need now, and Eggsy doesn’t want to rush into this in the backseat of a cab, both still overwhelmed with what has changed.  
Instead of his lips, he traces his thumb across Harry’s mouth, feeling his own body’s warmth left there.  
“I wanted to do this for a really long time now”, he whispers, knowing that Harry will feel the words as much as he will hear them, huffs of warm breath against his skin. “I’m glad I did.”  
“Me too.” Harry’s thumb strokes across his cheekbone, almost like he was afraid to break him, and Eggsy can’t help but lean into the touch, feel it seep into his skin, change him. Beneath them, the car stops, even if Eggsy doesn’t understand the implications until Harry leaves a kiss on the corner of his mouth, asks, “Do you want to turn the car around? There will be another concert, surely.”

The moment is broken, noise from the street filtering in through the windows – bachelorette parties, the excited hoots of fans, the occasional, drunk butchering of a song or two – and Eggsy remembers just where they are and why.  
It’s tempting, just going home, closing the door behind them and having Harry to himself for the rest of the night, but so is going out and showing the world that it’s not just him against it now, it’s them.  
“Let’s stay”, he says softly, pulls back and grins at Harry, _his_ Harry, takes his hand and vows not to let it go for the rest of the evening.

 

 

 

 

 

(They make it to the concert, but instead of going backstage afterwards, they make two seventy-year old women very happy, send them on their way with their tickets and a little letter for Elton.  
Eggsy only lets go of Harry’s hand much later, when he needs it for something else entirely.)

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also now imagine Harry Hart spending twenty minutes making the perfect martinis before knocking on Eggsy's door.
> 
>  
> 
> In case you want to say hi, send me a prompt, or tell me something nice, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> [X](http://www.coloursflyaway.tumblr.com)


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